


The Wolfswood

by David___Y



Series: A Lifetime [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Forests, Hiking, Jon Snow and Sansa Stark Are Not Related, Jon Snow and the Starks Are Not Related, Jon Snow is Not a Stark, Jon Snow is Not a Targaryen, POV Sansa Stark, Past Joffrey Baratheon/Sansa Stark, The Wolfswood (ASoIaF), Tree Climbing, Weirwood(s), Wolf Pack, Wolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:48:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28097946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/David___Y/pseuds/David___Y
Summary: In her lifetime, she had seen plenty a photograph & painting of woodland. While they had certainly been wonderful in their own regard, they could never capture the atmosphere of being there in person, Sansa realised now. Jon had not been lying when he said one day would not allow someone to truly appreciate the Wolfswood. Stretching from Torren's Square all the up to the city of Last Hearth the opposite side of the Last River, there were few woodlands in Westeros that could compare to it.
Relationships: Jon Snow & Sansa Stark, Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: A Lifetime [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2052186
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	The Wolfswood

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again. Here's another.
> 
> When writing, I've been picturing Jon & Sansa as they're drawn in the Clash of Kings graphic novel, if you wanted art work to base them off of while reading. I specify A Clash of Kings because the artists for the Clash of Kings graphic novels and A Game of Thrones graphic are different, so charcters look different.

The Wolfswood crepted over the horizon, rising above it for a good hour until finally making it all the way over. Sansa travelled north-west, getting closer & closer to the immense collection of trees. Stretching from Torren's Square all the up to the city of Last Hearth the opposite side of the Last River, there were few woodlands in Westeros that could compare to it. Several towns had been built within its borders, chief amoung them Deepwood Motte which was on its way to becoming a city. The Wolfswood was the perfect place for people who lived nearby to go on hikes or for families to spend a day out. It was nearing midday, the sun hanging more east than west in a deep blue sky populated with white, fluffy clouds. She'd taken the roads circling Winterfell's outsikrts rather than cutting through the heart of the city; she'd only be leaving the city by now if she had.

At this time of the day on this day of the week, Sansa would normally be knee deep in telephone calls & E-mails: organising & requesting data & documents and speaking with members of the public who had need of the Department of Social Relations. It was incredibly tedious and draining work. She loved it. And regardless of how tired she felt at the end of a shift, eager for a filling dinner and the warmth of her bed, at least it wasn't working for Cersei Lannister. The three years she spent as that woman's P.A. were probably the worst three years anyone could have started their working life with.

Sansa had only managed to land the job because Cersei had been a frequent visitor at the University of King's Landing (UKL) and Sansa had been naïve enough not to see past her fake smiles & blatant disregard of anyone she didn't like. Toward the end, Sansa had been one of them. It wasn't because she'd been bad at her job. Sansa received not one complaint about her performance from Cersei or anyone else working at the Westerland Embassy. The hatred came as a result of her relationship with Cersei's son, Joffrey.

Sansa hadn't met him until a bit over a year into her job as Cersei's P.A. The golden haired boy, two years her senior, strolled into the office completely unannounced – tall & smug faced – to see his mother. Before that point, Sansa's only impression of Joffrey were the things his mother said of him; speaking as if he were the purest being to have ever walked the earth. And to begin with, Sansa had agreed, so much so that she actively pursued a relationship with him.

For a year and a half the pair of them were casually courting, doing things together in the city on days off: eating dinner, watching films, going bowling, sight seeing. Sansa had even been invited round to family dinners where she met Joffrey's sister Mrycella and brother Tommen. Both were wonderful people. Sansa became an honorary member of the Lannister family right up until Joffrey revealed himself, promting Sansa to swiftly end the relationship. There had been warning signs that gave Sansa suspicions of Joffrey's true, violent nature, such as when the Blackfyre terrorists attacked a major branch of the Iron Bank:

Sansa, he, Margery Tyrell – Sansa's best friend from UKL – and Loras Tyrell – the youngest of Margery's three older brothers – were all sharing a day off when they heard the gunfire echoing off the tall buildings that populated King's Landing's inner city. Like everyone else who had been on that same street, she, Margery & Loras all wanted to run in the oppsite direction. Joffrey, however, had decided to get front row seats to a terror attack.

Sansa was half way down the city block when she'd realised Joffrey wasn't with them. Telling Margery & Loras to go on ahead, she went back for Joffrey. It was near impossible to wade her way through the crowd of people running in the opposite direction to her. The first thing she'd done was grab his sleeve, trying to pull him the other way, but he pressed on into the flow of the crowd. Sansa screamed at him to go with her and he'd replied, “I'm not missing the opportunity to see this.” She persisted in her efforts and that was when he shouted, “Get off me you bitch!”and yanked his arm from her grip. Sansa was left standing on the pavement, the people of King's Landing panicing around her – dumbfounded.

The next time she saw him was a week after. Joffrey acted as if it had never happened, being the saint that Sansa knew him for. She surmised that it was a freak occurance caused by the stress of the moment. They continued their casual courting for the next five or so months, ending the night Joffrey asked Sansa to have sex with him.

They were at Joffrey's apartment with dornish takeaway and the lastest original movie from their perferred streaming service. Having finished eating, Sansa spent the rest of the movie lying down on the couch, legs hanging off the arm rest and head in Joffrey's lap. When the movie finished and the food containers found themselves placed in the appropriate bins, Joffrey had hugged her, placed a kiss on her lips, then said, “I want to have sex.”

At first Sansa had chuckled, returning the kiss and deciding to answer, “Do you?” He'd nodded. It wasn't anything that set off warning signs. Having sex was a normal enough thing for people their age to do with their romantic partners and he was completely entitled to bring it up. But Sansa was a virgin and wanted to stay that way until she was sure Joffrey was the person who she would spend her life with.“I'm sorry, but I don't feel ready yet, Joff,” she had replied.

That had been the tinder box used to light the fuse.

“We've been going to out for a year and a half,” Joffrey said, puzzled. “How can you not be ready by now?”

Sansa frowned. “I don't want to do anything until I'm sure you're who I want to spend my life with.”

A half-scowl formed on his face and the anger began to leak into his voice. “How can you not be sure?”

Sansa struggled to withdraw from the embrace, saying, “I don't want to be rash. Let go of me, Joff.” Joffrey only tightened his hold on her.

“How is waiting a year and a half to have sex being rash? You really need to make a decision soon. You've only got, what, seventeen years before you're no good.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean you have seventeen years until you can't have children, you stupid cunt. Best get to it in the next year or so if want them to be grown before you start to wrinkle.”

“I don't want children yet! I don't want children with you!”

The fuse reached its end and the bomb went off.

Joffrey let go of Sansa only to plant a swift right hook round the side of her face. She went to the floor stumbling. The pain began to register but she ignored it, she needed to get to her coat. Getting her feet underneath her, she pushed herself out of the kitchen and into the living room, all while Joffrey shouted at her:

“I have been nothing but kind to you. You repay me by saying you aren't sure whether or not you want to marry me yet. If that's the case then maybe I've wasted my time on you. Say good-fucking-bye to that job as my mother's assistant. There's no fucking way she'll want you working for if I tell her you've been such a bitch to me.”

Sansa didn't listen to anything he was saying, only focusing on getting to her coat. It was grey, made of artifical fur, soft to the touch and had a well-sized inside pocket that her boyfriend didn't know about. Joffrey was two steps away from her by the time she pulled out what that pocket hid. Joffrey backed away in fear when she pointed the gun at him.

“Listen here, you utter brute!” Sansa said, her cheek burning, one tooth loose and the taste of blood on her tonuge. “We are finished. Unlock the front door or I will call the police and report you for assualt.” The fear in his eyes never left as he walked to the front door and twisted the key in its lock. Sansa slowly manuvered herself around the couch as he went to the door, not wanting to let him come close enough to grab her. With the door unlocked, she got Joff to walk around the couch as she had done while she moved to the door. On the way out, she picked up her coat, closing the door with her Mott 18 still pointed square at Joffrey's chest.

A neightbour had poked his head into the corridor, brown, lanky hair and one side of his face burned. Most like he'd heard the confrontation. As Sansa put on her coat and returned her gun to the inside pocket, he asked what had happened and Sansa told him. In response, the man offered her a cup of tea and asked whether or not he should call the police. She accepted the first offer and declined the second. The man's name was Sandor.

As he boiled the kettle in the kitchen, Sansa called the landline of the apartment Margery & Loras shared, asking them to pick her up. She left Sandor's apartment, thanking him for the cup of tea and declining an offer to be walked down to the foyer. Sansa told Margery & Loras everything that had happened during the car ride and Sansa stayed the rest of the night at theirs.

For the next six months, Sansa worked as Cersei silently scorned her. Joffrey came into the office once or twice to see his mother, only sparing Sansa a scowl that could not hide the fear lingering in his eyes. She smiled internally, thinking that she could inspire that fear in him. Sansa decided to move home after that six months, realising that she could not stand Cersei's silent seething, the tightly packed nature of King's Landing and incredible amount of crime she knew happened in the city. Her mother & father had been relieved to hear when she told them.

She still kept in touch Margery, Loras, Mrycella and Tommen. All of them had moved out of King's Landing from what they told her. Tommen and Margery had gotten into a relationship unexpectedly, living together in the Reach. Mrycella had moved to Dorne and met a boy named Trystane. The jury was still out on Loras with regards to a relationship. Both the young Lannisters had told Sansa their mother vehemently disapproved of them keeping in touch with her, but they did it it anyway because she hadn't been the one in the wrong.

All of a sudden, trees flanked Sansa on both sides. She left the main road for a side road on the right which was unpopualted save for her. Snow coated the road banks and tree branches. She could not help rolling down the window half way to let the chilly northern air fill her car. The fresh smell of pine drifted in as each tree _whooshed_ by. She let out a breahe and slumped slightly in her chair, the car travelling at a comfortable 40 MPH. _This is better than any story Randa could tell._ Sansa was so relaxed, cruising down the road, that she almost didn't notice the sign telling her that the visitors' car park was coming up.

She pulled into the left after dropping in speed.

The road changed from tarmac to dirt; or, more accurately, snow & mud. The car park spread out after fifty meters. Running down the middle was a long mound of earth – topped with snow – a wooden fence pertruding from it. Either side of the fence were a handful of parked cars, mostly off-roaders. Signposts in the shapes of arrows instructed drivers to travel the ring road surrounding the fence clockwise. The entrance/exit road was in the south-east corner. Travelling along the ring road, Sansa judged the fence was long enough to allow twenty five cars to park on each side with door space.

Coming to the far end, Sansa parked next to a black Manderly W500. Pulling on the handbreak and turning off the engine, Sansa looked in the car she'd parked beside to find it vacant. _He's probably in the visitors' centre._ Said visitors' centre was a large timber building sitting in the north-west corner of the car park, two storeys tall, with a path leading into the wilderness to the left of it. It was not the only one its kind: the Wolfswood Association had them scattered all through the Wolfswood.

Sansa used the remote lock as she stepped round the back of the her car, toward the visitors' centre. The front door was on a raised platform which acted as a single step. The second storey had an overhang supported by wooden pillars on the edges of the platform and wooden railings passed between each pillar, save the centre two. The doors were made of the same wood was the rest of the centre; the bottom of them solid wood, the top a square window quartered into four panes. A rush of warm air hit her in the face when she stepped inside.

A front desk sat three meters in front of the door in the form of a square kiosk split into three thirds: a cobblestone desk topped with wood, open space cornered by cobblestone pillars that continued into the top third of hollow wooden panles that stored a light. No one sat in the kiosk. Stands holding advertisement pamphlets for the Wolfswood & other attractions, information booklets and a till sat on the kiosk desk. The front side of the ground floor was barren expect for the kiosk. The back left of the ground floor was walled off – an office. The back right was a small caferteria, occupied by a cashier standing behind a desk and a single customer who was dressed in a fleece jumper underneath an orange, insulated jacket with dark brown, hardshell trousers and hiking boots. On the table were a steaming paper cup, a black wool hat and pair of gloves. He had been staring intently at the steam coming off the cup, looking up at the door when he heard it open.

“So you found the place,” Jon quipped with a smile.

“Only because you gave such good directions,” Sansa replied, walking over to him. As she did, the man at the caferteria desk asked if she wanted anything and she answered, “A cup of tea,” as she sat down at the table with Jon. “What's the plan?”

“Have you brought everything I told you to?”

“Everything down to the thermal underwear.”

“Before we head out, you'll need to sign a form. It's just legal stuff about recognising that all the animals & plants in the woods are protected and damages to them could result in legal prosecution, but we won't be harming any animals or plants, so you won't have to worry about that.” The cup of tea came. Sansa gave the cashier a stag. “So I'll be taking you on the trail I usually take. That will mean we get back about midday, the day after tomorrow. Best to leave anything that isn't essential in your car so it doesn't get lost. Phone, house keys, et cetera.”

“I think I'll just follow your lead.”

Jon smiled. “That is probably for the best.”

The pair drank their drinks before heading back out to their cars. A worker came out of the office, heading to the front desk. Jon spoke to said worker and got the form that Sansa needed to sign. As he walked, Sansa observed Jon was quick on his feet thanks to his slender frame. While broad shoulder3e, whatever muscles he had were kept hidden by the clothes he wore. One might not even take him for a police officer. Sansa appreciated that Jon clearly didn't care much about building muscle. Joffrey couldn't go a week without visiting the gym and she'd found it a tad unnecassary to obsess over it. Other than that lean frame, Jon's defining features were a long face, dark grey eyes that looked almost black and straight, dark brown hair that went down to the bottom of his neck. _All of it makes him damn handsome._

Outside in the car park, the two of them prepared. In the back of Sansa's car, she had large rucksack, already stuffed with everything she might need over the next few days. Strapped to the bottom was a sleeping bag with a rolled up sleeping mat. She replaced her usual coat of artificial fur for an insulated jacket, the trainers she drove in for a pair of hiking boots. Her Mott 18 she'd left at home, Jon was going to be the only person she was with and she trusted him.

Already on her person was a fleece jumper over a long sleeve thermal shirt, over a plain white vest, over a thermal bra; on her legs, hardshell trousers over thermal leggings. Three pairs of socks covered her feet. Before slipping on a wool hat and insulated gloves, Sansa styled her hair into a single, thick braid she brought over her shoulder. As she tied the laces of her boots, Jon pulled on his own rucksack, throwing it over both his shoudlers before slamming his boot door shut.

“I'm ready,” he said as she finshed lacing her boots.

“So am I.” She stood, closed her boot, locked her car, put the key in a pocket and zipped the pocket shut.

Her boots felt heavy and stiff on her feet, not used to wearing them: she'd only worn them briefly when trying them on in the shop. The rucksack was also quite heavy, weighing on her shoulders & upper back. _If my spine is permanently bent by the end of this, I will not be surprised._ Conversely, Jon stood as straight has he had with the rucksack off, very clearly used the weight on his shoudlers & back. _I bet Joffrey would collapse if he had to where that._ The mental image of that happening went through her head and Sansa could stop herself from quietly chuckling.

“What?” Jon asked.

“I thought of something funny,” Sansa replied. Jon left it at that.

 _Crunch_ , _crunch_ , _crunch_ went the snow underneath their feet as they began on the path to the left of the visitors' centre. Sansa was sure to keep herself shortly behind Jon so he could lead the way, his long legs striding confidently through the shallow blanket coating the ground, but it was more her trying to keep up thanks to the extra weight she carried. They pasted ferns, bushes that looked like cakes frosted with icing sugar, tall trees, middling trees and shorts trees. Now & again, she would step on a hidden stick; snapping some, but not all. The air tasted like fresh, cold water whenever she drew in a lungful with her mouth.

“The braid suits you well,” Jon commented randomly, perhaps wishing to make small talk as they walked.

“You think so?”

“I do.”

“Perhaps I'll wear it in a braid more often then. I hardly ever tie back my hair.”

“Don't you have to for the sake of looking smart in the office?”

“No. They'll let you wear your hair how you like within reason if you keep it tidy. I don't style mainly because my hair's so long and I can't be bothered to style it every morning.”

“Ever thought about cutting it?”

“No. I like it this long.” _Crunch_ , _crunch_ , _crunch_ , _crunch_. “What about you? Isn't long hair like yours against dress code for police officers.”

“It is, which is why I have to tie it back in a low bun every day before heading to the station.” The frustration was evident in his tone.

Sansa smirked before asking, “Ever thought about cutting it?” with a cheeky tone.

Jon sighed, a triffle annoyed. “I keep it this length because it's how my father wore it whenever he wasn't on tour.”

Sansa's face went blank. “Oh.”

“'Oh' indeed.”

“I'm sorry,” Sansa said genuinely.

Jon looked back, wearing a small smile. “Don't worry. You didn't know.”

Silence lingered between them for a while.

They took a trail on the right that took them past a fallen down sentinel tree. Jon said it had been like that for a year and was now an unofficial landmark of the trail. Another hiker met them an hour or so later, stopping for a chinwag that lasted ten minutes. The hiker was tall, well built and wore thick-rimmed glasses. He warned them of a direwolf lurking about that another group had claimed to have seen. They thanked him for the heads up before being on their way.

The road wasn't entirely straight, ending at shallow river that flowed to their left. A few rocks lied in the river bed, high enough to poke out of the water. Sansa chuckled warmly when a small fish leaped out only to _sploosh_ back into it. Jon said the river flowed south-west as they set off up stream.

Up stream also meant up hill. While Jon took to the upwards incline as a bird took to a strong gust of wind, Sansa took to it like a person who wasn't used to steep upwards climbs took to steep upwards climbs. The distance between them grew, her pace decreasing. Jon intentionally slowed his own so he didn't leave her stumbling behind. Once close enough, Sansa decided to take hold of Jon's hand. He smiled, bringing her close beside him. They stuck to the riverbank and the terrain eventually leveled out. Even though Sansa knew she'd be able to keep up, she kept hold of Jon's hand.

He made no move to let go.

From their position on the riverbank, the taller parts of the surrounding woods could be seen above the tree tops. Many a hill of varying height rose in the distance, frosted trees covering them entirely, partially or not at all. In her lifetime, she had seen plenty a photograph & painting of woodland. While they had certainly been wonderful in their own regard, they could never capture the atmosphere of being there in person, Sansa realised now. Jon had not been lying when he said one day would not allow someone to truly appreciate the Wolfswood.

Somewhere off in the wildreness, a wolf howled.

Sansa stopped dead, forcing Jon to stop with her.

“Don't worry,” he assured her warmly as more wolves picked up the howl. “They're too far off for us to worry. Besides, wolves will only attack you if they see you as a threat. Noramlly, they'll just head the other direction once they realise you're there.”

“Normally?”

“They could also just stay still and observe, or follow you at a distance. In all my time hiking in these woods I've only encountered a wolf once or twice and they've just left me alone.”

“That hiker said the group he met saw a direwolf.”

“You know the difference?”

“They're much bigger. What will happen if we encounter one?”

“Their size makes them bolder than their smaller cousins. I've seen one far off before but never up close. I've heard stories of people being approached by direwolves only to be left alone because the wolf didn't feel threatened.” He looked back at her. “Does that ease your mind?” She nodded.

They finally turned away from the river when a modest clearing appeared on their right. The snow had been trodden in recently, footsteps clearly pressed into it. The far end of the clearing was the foot of a large hill. Sansa stared upwards. Crowning the hill was an extremely tall pine tree. It seemed the sight of it excited Jon into increasing his pace. “You see that tree at the top of the hill?” Jon asked.

“We're going to climb it, aren't we?”

“Yes we are.” Sansa chuckled, pulling her face into a white-toothed grin. She quickened her pace with Jon until it was the closest the pair of them could get to running, still keeping hold of each other's hand. _Randa & Jeyne are going to love hearing about this._

The trek up hill was slow. There was a well travelled path winding inbetween the shaggy pines. Their scent was strong on the air and she could practically taste it as she drew in breathes through her mouth. The joy filling her was almost childlike: she'd climbed a tree or two when she was young, feeling what she now knew would have been adrenaline as she scaled heights that had seemed gigantic at the time, but were quite moderate now that she was an adult. The sun was hanging low in sky when they reached the top of the hill, looming close to the western horizon and the east beginning to turn a dark shade of blue.

“We'll leave our rucksacks at the bottom,” Jon said, undoing the buckle spanning his chest, conneting the two shoulder straps. Sansa followed his lead and took her own rucksack off, placing it with his, lying down underneath the branches that started two feet off the ground. The next thing to happen was the pair of them wading into the pine fur. The needles scratched at her face and clawed at her hat. Had her hair not been tied up, it would be a mess already. Jon didn't have that problem: though his hair was long for a man's, most of it hid underneath his hat. Her feet found branches to stand on, her hands branches to grasp. Gradually they climbed the tree, lending each other a hand where they were needed, against the protest of the coat of pine needles the tree wore. Branches shifted and shook as the climbers moved.

They came to the highest point they could in about ten minutes. The branches at this height were shorter than they were near the ground, allowing Sansa & Jon to get close enough to the trunk to wrap an arm around it. The wind beat against them with a fury one could not feel near the base of the tree, surrounded by other trees that broke the winds. Green and white covered the land to all horizons. The pair looked mainly north, saving only a few choice glances to south in order to avoid the sun's intense light. She breathed in a lungful of air and let out a pleasured sigh as she exhaled.

“Pleased?” Jon asked.

Sansa nodded. “This view alone makes up for Old Roose's frowns,” she answered. “And Randa will be jealous when I tell her. She'll want to steal you off me.” Jon laughed. It was clear & strong & wonderful. _I could get very used to that laugh._

“Would you let her?”

“Not bloody likely.” She let a healthly silence fill the air for the moment, using it to appreciate the sight before her. “If we do stay together, I want to do this several times a year.”

“We most certainly will.”

For a while, the two of them stayed at the top of the tree, heathily silent – thinking.

Her brother Bran would have loved to be doing this. As a boy, he'd climbed nearly every tree he could. Surefooted and fearless, mother & father had found the nearest rock climbing club to home the moment he was old enough to join. He'd spent three years of his life at that club; they said Bran could do it professionally if he kept it up. And then came the day where the safety harnass hadn't been properly fastened. From what the supervisors told her parents, one moment Bran had been climbing like normal, the next his foot slipped out of the hold and the last moment saw him unconcious on the floor. He'd been rushed to the hospital and left unable to feel anything from the waist down.

Suddenly, Sansa felt very glump. “Can we get down?” she asked, disheartened; Jon did not fail to note. He nodded with a serious expression and began to manuver down the branches, helping Sansa on the way. At the bottom, she slumped into the snow, leaning as much as she could against the pine branches. Jon got their rucksacks from underneath the tree before kneeling beside her, concerned.

“Is everything alright?” he asked. Sansa nodded, frowning.

“My younger brother Bran, the one in a wheelchair, I never told you how he got paralyzed.” She took his hand in her's, squeezed the fingers tightly. “He loved climbing, but one day he fell.” That was all Jon needed to hear. He nodded before sitting beside her. An arm went round Sansa's shoulders and she felt a bit better thanks to it.

By nightfall, they'd moved down the opposite side of the hill and contiued on through the woods until it began to get dark. A large enough space amoung the trees was found where the two of them unrolled their sleeping bags so they would sleep top-and-tailing. They ate as the last of the light left the world until all that was left was the dark blue sky, alight with thousands of milk droplets; big & small, bright & dim. The moon hung amoung them, proud and pure. Jon was able to point out all the constellations he knew as the two of them huddled together to keep warm, their breath a white mist in the night air. He pointed to the Crone's Lantern, the Stallion, the Sword in the Morning and the Ice Dragon, all shining as strong as each other.

“You were right about me wanting to live out here for the view,” Sansa said, staring up.

“I said you would.”

Sansa went to sleep amazed.

The next morning, they woke to a fresh layer of shallow, spring snow that had been dropped on them by the sky. They took turns looking after their things while the other went off to relieve themselves. Teeth were brushed, food was eaten, sleeping bags were rolled up. Sansa & Jon set off once again through the woods, the sky a bright blue curtesy of the sun hanging brightly in the east

As they set off, almost naturally, they gripped each other's hands.

They _crunched_ through the fresh snow, her legs aching some from the day before. One thing she noticed as they pushed onwards, passing in-between trees, around Jon's jaw and across his top lip was a fine layer of brown stubble: faint shadow across a pale face turned bright red by the cold. Sansa was nearly at a height with Jon – only a few inches short – so didn't have to tip her head upwards to see.

The day's main sight was a clearing they came to in the middle morning. In the centre of it, standing tall and proud, was a Weriwood tree of white bark with blood red leaves. It stood at a height Sansa judged to be twenty metres. It was the largest Weirwood she had ever seen. At the bottom of the trunk, a face was carved. The expression shown was one of a frown, sad eyes crying tears of red sap. They stood a few feet from the trunk, mesmorised.

“I don't usually pray,” Jon said, sombre, “but every time I walk this trail and reach this Weirwood, I do.”

“What do you pray for?” Sansa asked, curious.

“It depends on what's going on in my life at the time. When Ygritte moved away, I prayed she found happiness in her new job. When Aemon died, I prayed for him to find peace in the afterlife.” He looked at her. “Now that we're courting, I would ask the Old Gods that this relationship works between the two of us.”

She felt the smile grow on her face. “I think I'll pray for that too,” she said. The pair of them knelt in front of the Weirwood. The carved face watched them silently pray.

For most of her life, Sansa had mainly prayed to the Seven, the gods her mother and most people in the South worshipped. She still spared a prayer to the gods her father kept, from time to time, but she had been more her's mother's daughter than her father's. Her years in King's Landing saw her keeping with the Seven, but Cersei & Joffrey had made the south loose its glamour: another reason why she had decided to come back home.

With her return to the North came an appreciation she didn't previously have for it. She stayed in her parents' house in the time between leaving the South and moving into her current home. During this time, she spent more time with her father, hoping to make up for the time she'd neglected to spend with him before moving to King's Landing. It seemed only right she continue her appreciation for the North by praying to the northern gods with the same passion she had the Seven.

There was a Weirwood growing in the park she & Jon used every morning. On near enough every block of their home burrow and the rest of Winterfell was a small garden where a Weirwood grew. One always stood at the bottom of her parents' back garden, a shallow pond at its foot. Not a week would go by when father didn't kneel in front of it to pray. In the history books of Westeros, it was said that Weirwoods were incredibly uncommon in the North and basically nowhere in the South; any attempts to get shaplings to take root & grow failed. But as Westeros developed and its technology improved, people were able to successfully plant & grow more Weirwoods so that followers of the Old Gods would have places of worship more readily avalible.

The rest of the day saw them making their way through the woods, turning in the direction of the visitors' centre around mid-afternoon. Jon showed her a tree split in half by lightning, the branches grotesquely twisted and the bark burned black. One thing that hadn't been on Jon's list of things to show her was a pair of deer that were stood out in a clearing they passed. The two of them stood still, stayed quiet and watched until the deer moved off; all the while, the wind softly whispered.

That night they found another clearing, again it was lit by a star filled sky. The pair sat eating as the air got colder and the light dwindled, chewing quietly and talking in-between bites. Sansa noted that Jon's stubble had grown into a very thin beard since the morning as she ate.

“This weedend has been really nice,” Sansa said to begin with.

“I'm glad you've enjoyed yourself. It will be nice to have someone with me on these hikes again.”

“SoYgritte did this with you?”

“And loved it so much that she made it her job by becoming a ranger.” Sansa laughed at that, chocking a bit on her food. “What's so funny?”

“You being genuinely nice to your girlfriend led to her no longer being your girlfriend. I'm sorry, but that story sounds like one you'd tell to friends when you're all piss drunk and want to set them off laughing.”

Jon chuckled some. “Aye. I guess you're right.” He ate another mouthful. “What do you want to do for our next outing?”

It had been a month since their first dinner at the Weirwood. In that time most of their interactions were still their encounters in the park during Jon's morning jog, save one time when the two of them shared a day off to see a newly released film that interested both of them, followed by another dinner at the Weirwood where Jon had Riverland Trout & his own glass of the Imp's Delight. Sansa tried one of the various dornish based dishes on the menu, sharing in the choice of wine. The film they went to see had been a three hour long, historical fiction based on one of the many wars that had taken place in Westeros. She'd liked it at first but then Jon had pointed out a historical inaccuracy in almost every scene as she drove them to the restaurant.

Jon had been able to point out the inaccuracies because his room mate in university had studied the very battle the film was based on. Jon had spent many an evening helping Sam to revise the events leading up to, during and in the aftermath of the battle while also proofreading every paper Sam wrote. It was this familiarity with the battle that had made Jon want to see the film in the first place. On the way to cinema, he'd told her that he and Sam planned to talk about the film after they'd both seen it and the last thing he'd said when she dropped him off at home was, “Now I'm going to lose an entire night of sleep speaking to Sam about how shit that film was.”

Returning to the present, Sansa told him,“My birthday is next month,” now finished with her food. “Given that we'll have been a pair nearly two months when we reach it, you could come to my parents' house to have dinner with me and my family. I've told them about you already and their eager to meet you.”

Jon agreed. “I'd love to meet your family.”

They went to bed soon after that, this time arranging their sleeping bags so their heads would be level. Falling asleep, Sansa stared at Jon's face imagining herself doing the same thing in future, only in a double-bed that the two of them shared as husband & wife.

The humans had drifted into slumber for the night. The wolf and her mate had been following their trail since they'd picked it up that morning, when the sun had been born anew. The pair of humans had been skirting the edges of her pack's territory and that had been the only reason she & her mate wanted to keep an eye on them. A fresh litter of pups was currently being looked after by one of the females in their pack, drinking milk from her teats and playing in the snow. It occurred to the wolf that these two humans could be mates with a litter of their own somewhere. She had seen plenty of humans who mated, even watched as they did it amoung the trees.

She looked to her mate who she led her pack alongside, his fur mostly white with faded grey. They rubbed their snouts together, a gesture they had performed many a time, then wrapped their mouths around each other's neck, teeth reaching the skin but never breaking through. They shuffled in the snow, rolling over & twisting around. Next, he mounted her from behind. Not to mate though; now was not the time. She pushed herself backward against him, releshing in the contact.

This was what they did whenever they were about to hunt.

Following the humans had led them to the scent of deer. She and her mate wound their way swiftly through the trees, not running but not walking either. Still, their noses had the scent of the deer, getting more potent as they progressed. The air was filled with the scent of snow, trees, leaves and the humans they had followed. Each was disinct, each of them easy to follow back to its source. When the scent of deer became strong enough, she & her mate slowed themselves. If they approached too quickly, the deers would be spooked and bolt. They needed the deer to feed their new litter of five, as well as the eight other adults and six who had been born after the last mating season.

The sky gave them all the light they needed.She and her mate flattened themselves in the snow. Their eyes locked onto the prey they meant to hunt, licking at the snow for water. Down wind from the deer, their scent would not alert them. The wolf looked at her mate and he began stalking around to the other side of the prey. If he could get upwind, his scent would prompt the deer to run away – toward her.

The deers' heads shot up. She caught her mate's scent. Their prey bolted toward her and she saw her mate bounding after them. Once the deer were close enough, she leapt from the ground, her jaws wide open, catching the neck of one of the deer in her teeth. Warm, rich blood filled her mouth and soaked her face. The deer went limp as it died. Her mate was busy sprinting after the other. He was a capable direwolf. She knew she didn't have to leave her kill to help him. Withdrawing from the deer's throat, the wolf saw the life leave its eyes then began to eat the thin meat on the deer's legs. The meat on the main body would be fed on once she dragged the carcass back to the den.

Sansa woke, her body aching, with the taste of blood on her tounge.

Her reaction was to check the inside of her mouth for cuts, not realising – in her panic – that she felt no pain. Finding no obvious sources of the taste, she felt her brow frown in confusion. The sky was bright, blue and painted with scattered thin, white clouds. She saw the exhaust trails of two planes flying at a high altitude. Beside her Jon slept soundly, breathing lightly through his nostrils, chest rising and falling underneath his sleeping bag. The night had made his thin beard a bit thicker, hairs beginning to curl lightly into each other and the skin of his face.

The morning urge to empty her bladder made itself known and Sansa shed herself of her sleeping bag. Her boots went on and were tightly laced before she began her trek to the nearest set of trees. No fresh snow had fallen in the night as it had done the night before, so she saw all the footsteps they had made yesterday. Once a decent way into the trees, she saw to her buisness. It was only once she stood back up and done up her trousers that she saw the movement in the trees. A sudden fear took hold of her body, forcing her up against the next nearest tree.

Dead in front of her, a face covered in blood and fur a shade of light grey, a direwolf slowly approached; its yellow eyes burning into her soul. It was the size of a small horse: head coming in line with the bottom of her chest, she judged. Sansa's bright, blue eyes were wide, locked on the advancing animal. Each of its steps seemed careful, breaking the snow before putting its full weight upon it. When it reached the place where Sansa had done her buisness, it stopped a moment to lower its head, nose twitching as it took in the scent of her urine. _It must think I'm marking its terriotry for my own,_ Sansa thought, doing her best to rationalise the direwolf's approach.

“I'm sorry,” she squeaked in vain. _There's no way that wolf can understand you._

The wolf did raise its head at her words, then resumed its approach.

If Sansa backed any further up, she would phase into the tree. The direwolf kept its eyes locked on her, nose twichting. The blood only served to make Sansa even more petrified; it had clearly killed something recently. She felt the muslces over her temples beign to ache from how long her eyes had remained wide open. By now all her thoughts had devolved into, _Run! Run! Run, you stupid woman!_ but her feet would not obey.

Only when the wolf was half a metre in front of her did it finally stop, head raised to look into Sansa's eyes. It sniffed up and down her body, nose trembling, teeth obscured. _It doesn't see me as a threat. If it did, it would be acting violently._ She took what solace she could in that realisation. Once finished with its taking in of Sansa's scent, the direwolf sent it's head up so its nose pointed straight into the air. A howl left its mouth so loud that Sansa could not help but cover her ears. The howl was replied to by other howls, one of which sounded as it were coming from the clearing that she and Jon had been sleeping in. _Is there another one? Watching Jon?_

The howl finished and the direwolf stared into Sansa's eyes one last time.

Slowly, it turned round in the snow before breaking into a brisk walk. It moved with a grace the likes of which Sansa had never seen in another animal. Sansa wondered as to why the wolf might have bothered to approach, study her with its nose and then send up a howl. All she knew for certain was, when the direwolf had made good progress into the trees, her fear released its grip. She dropped to her knees, her legs feeling like jelly and the snow scattering out from where she landed, to let out an almighty cry:

“JON!” she yelled as she broke into tears, the word lasting long.

Jon came upon her hugging herself tightly and utterly confused as to how she should be reacting. His boot laces were undone, so Sansa suspected he'd still been alseep before she called for him. Jon dropped to his own knees in front of her, taking her into the warmest embrace that she could remember, his hands rubbing up & down her back.

“What's wrong?” he asked, voice full of concern and comfort.

“A direwolf, Jon,” she told him. “I had just finished peeing when a direwolf walked out from amoung the trees.” Jon laughed nervously, sounding as if he was unsure how to feel. “What?”

He leaned back some, enough so they could look into each other's eyes. “It's just, last night, I dreamt I was a direwolf.” A faint memory of her dream the previous night passed through her head. _Warm, rich blood filled her mouth and soaked her face._ Sounding more confused than upset or afraid, she weakly replied:

“So did I.”

**Author's Note:**

> I was not expecting this to be nearing three thousand words longer than the first part. One thousand, yes, but not three. Anyway, hoped you enjoyed.
> 
> No word of a lie, I stayed up until two o'clock watching wolf documentary videos one night while writing the first draft of this story because I wanted to accurately portray wolf behaviour but also because I find wolves really interesting.


End file.
